


Berth Partners

by MagicRobot



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 06:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicRobot/pseuds/MagicRobot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Swerve is a heavy sleeper and Skids pays the price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Berth Partners

Groaning, Skids shifted under the heavy weight on top of him, huffing slightly when the body only shifted minutely. Although Swerve was smaller than him, and he would normally have no trouble mech-handling him, he became a complete dead weight while in recharge. As much as he loved cuddling, this was a bit too much.

Swerve was sprawled against his chest, his legs and arms spread akimbo as he slumbered. In a better state, Skids would have found the image cute, but, as it stood now, he was uncomfortable and was seriously debating tossing Swerve across the room and leaving. Any motion, push or prod, to Swerve’s frame only seemed to make the minibot fall deeper into recharge, the other snuggling closer to Skids after each attack.

Skids grunted, cursing his bad luck. The pressure from Swerve’s frame was bearing down on his vents, making it difficult to cycle air. He vented deeply. Perhaps this was some sort of punishment for him; a regular interface partner, but at the price of suffering at the post-coital slumber party. It was his idea for them to sleep in the same berth, after all, and the universe did seem to be out to get him.

He wiggled a bit, managing to get Swerve off his chest. Relieved, he vented deep gulps of air, tingling pain coming from his arm, where Swerve had rolled to. He twitched his arm a bit under the heavy frame, and with some more squirming, managed to free the appendage. Swerve flopped to the berth, barely twitching in his recharge.

Snatching his arm to his chest, Skids rubbed at the wiring in his wrist, the lines numb from the pressure. He looked down at the relaxed form of Swerve, shaking his helm. His mouth was open a bit, and his arms were curled against his chest. Little racketty noises were coming from his vents, and, if it weren’t for those, Skids would have thought Swerve had died.

Despite himself, Skids couldn’t help a fond smile from forming on his lips, tinged with exasperation. 


End file.
